


Who Wants To Live Forever

by SleepingReader



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, But not that alternate since it already existed but didn't?, Footnotes, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hogwarts, Humor, Love, M/M, Magic, Miracles, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Takes Place Before Good Omens, The Sorting Hat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 18:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19067893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingReader/pseuds/SleepingReader
Summary: According to the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, it goes like this:Wen the wardrobe is aflayme, then it shale beginne: The Angel shall shoute at books, the Deville shal shoute at plants and Hattes, and the serpent shalle be in the walls. And nun of themme will solv the Riddel.According to the fanfic listing on Archive of Our Own, it goes like this:It is the start of a new War, and a lot of countries are getting tetchy. Tom Marvolo Riddle goes to a magic school in Scotland and soon learns of his... snakelike charm, if you will.Heaven says: 'Turn this kid towards the Light before he turns a big snake on the World.'Hell says: 'Bring this kid further into darkness, and also turning a big snake onto the world sounds like a great idea.'Crowley and Aziraphale just wish they could find the entrance to the kitchens.





	1. Introduction

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night. In fact, it was a dark and stormy afternoon, around teatime.  
A man with auburn hair and a long beard had just walked into an orphanage. It almost sounded like the beginning of a bad joke, but it wasn’t. In fact, the bearded man had simply walked into the orphanage to invite one of its children to a special school.

A couple miles away in a overstocked parking lot, lounging in a decade-old Bentley, a certain demon finished his hamburger. He licked his fingers, ignoring the honking sounds behind him. He glared at his trousers until the errant drop of mustard disappeared.  
Yes, he could have driven without stopping in the parking lot. But that would have meant that at least _one_ of the people in the cue behind the Bentley would have found a parking space. The honking was like music to his ears.  
He started up the Bentley again. He drove off, waving cheerfully at the middle fingers that were stuck out of the windows of the cars behind him. He vaguely hoped he’d be able to listen to music in the car one day.  
He hummed a tune he would not hear for at least 30 years. Yet somehow it was already stuck in his head.  
If you had put lyrics into the tune, it would have sounded an awful lot like ‘I Want To Break Free’

In the centre of London, right next to an entrance to a rather specific and important inn, sat a bookshop. The owner and proprietor looked up at the doorbell. He was an angel, and he groaned inwardly.  
Customers.

Neither of these two individuals had any idea what had happened in the orphanage the auburn-haired man had just stepped out of. They didn’t know about the flaming cupboard, the mouth organ or the yo-yo. They only vaguely knew about the existence about a special school in England.  
And they most certainly didn’t know that Tom Marvolo Riddle had been accepted into it.

Until they did.  
The bookshop-owning angel, whose name was Aziraphale, had just received a new memo in the old book he was reading. He wasn’t even surprised that his bookmark transformed into it.  
He read it.  
‘Oh.’ He said.

The Bentley-driving demon named Crowley drove past seven ringing telephone boxes before rolling his eyes, stopping the car and getting out. He picked up the telephone in the blue police box, one leg sticking out. The box was smaller on the inside.   
‘Hi.’ He said.  
‘Hail Satan.’ Said the demon on the other end of the phone, sounding bored.  
‘Yeah, that.’ Crowley said. ‘What's up?’  
The demon had to think about this. ‘Heaven, I s’pose.’  
Crowley rolled his eyes again, just for good measure.  
‘I have your new assignment, Crowley.’ The demon said.  
‘Yup, bring it.’  
It was quiet on the other end.  
‘I mean: tell me.’ Crowley said. His eyes started to hurt from rolling.  
‘Oh. Yeah.’  
The demon told him.  
‘Shit.’ Crowley said.

Of course, they met up. They had an Arrangement, after all.  
Aziraphale stood in St. James Park, admiring the first nest of ducklings since a long time and skipping stones on the water. He wasn’t very good at skipping stones, but had deemed the little ducks a bit too young for bread.  
A big splash made him look around. Crowley was walking toward him. He had tossed a big stone.  
‘Take that, you blessed pond.’ He muttered as he swaggered over to his. Friend? Adversary? He wasn’t clear what they were.  
‘I’m assuming we both got instructions?’ Aziraphale asked him as Crowley stood next to him and miracled a handful of gravel into his hand and started skipping the stones.  
‘Hmm’ he said. ‘Yeah. Corrupt the kid going to the magic school.’  
‘And ‘save the kid.’ Unbelievable, isn’t it?’ Aziraphale asked, turning towards Crowley.  
Crowley shrugged. ‘There’s a demon downstairs who’s turned inside out. That’s unbelievable’ He said. He skipped a stone, then glared at it when it started to stop. It skipped on beyond the pond and hit a lamppost.  
Aziraphale mused on what Crowley had said. ‘But wouldn’t there be bits falling off?’  
‘Yyyyyup.’ Crowley drawled out the word. Aziraphale shook his head to get rid of the mental image.  
‘Do you know what this means?’ He asked.  
Crowley shuddered to think of it. ’We’d have to go _job hunting_ ’


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A job interview, some castle troubles and a very old hat.

If you had ever been to the magic school in question, you would know that job-hunting at Hogwarts is very, very easy. In fact, at the beginning of summer, a lot of the staff had retired, resigned or otherwise gone away. Both Crowley and Aziraphale swore they had nothing to do with it. It was, as they say, ineffable.

They couldn’t find the school on any maps, nor could they miracle themselves there* so they took Crowley’s Bentley, went to the border of Scotland, and drove North.  
It worked like a treat. When the signs started looking less like nuclear warning signs and more like signs for a town called ‘Hogsmeade’ they knew they were on the right track.  
Even the Bentley started looking vaguely more carriage-like and less car-like, but a simple eyebrow raise from Crowley had it back on its four wheels in no time.

They stopped to ask for directions. Well. Aziraphale asked for directions.  
The man in the funny-looking shop simply pointed to the large castle up the hill with a look in his eyes that could only be described as ‘duh’.  
Aziraphale stepped back into the car.  
They parked the car near the long drive up the castle and decided to walk the rest of the way.

Halfway there, Aziraphale made some excitable ‘ooo’ sounds. Crowley looked at him. Aziraphale had produced a round pair of wire-rimmed glasses out of an inside pocket and put them on.  
‘Look Crowley! I’m in disguise.’ He told the demon. Crowley snorted.  
‘What’d you need a disguise for?’ He asked. Aziraphale thought of this.  
‘Well, since I’m going for the job of librarian, I figured I’d look the part.’  
‘Angel, you _always_ look like a librarian!’ Crowley said. Aziraphale shrugged. He _liked_ the glasses.  
A quarter way to the castle, Crowley made a half-grin to himself. He took off his own glasses, and let his yellow eyes shine in the midday light.  
Aziraphale looked over, only a little out of breath due to the slight incline.  
‘What are you doing?’ He stage-whispered. ‘What if they see you?’  
‘’S my disguise.’ Crowley said, desperately trying to hide a chuckle. ‘Kids won’t know what hit ‘em.’

As it turned out, no one was in the least bit surprised about Crowley’s eyes. In fact, the headmaster with the funny name only asked if Crowley was something called an ‘animagus’.  
Crowley, who had no idea what this was, had tried to come up with a smart reply. He had only been able to say ‘Sometimes.’ The headmaster found this rather funny, and Crowley got the job without any suggestions or miracling.

When Armando Dippet’s door opened for Aziraphale, the headmaster looked up. ‘Let me guess.’ He said. ‘You’re here for the Defense Against The Dark Arts position?’  
Aziraphale stumbled on his words to say that no, he wasn’t. He was, in fact, here for the librarian position. The headmaster chuckled to himself.  
‘I’m sorry, sir. My little joke, you see. I’ve never seen anyone look quite as much as a librarian. We’re happy to have you, mister…?’  
Aziraphale was so confused he forgot to give the headmaster the alias he had been practising in front of the mirror.  
‘Aziraphale.’  
‘Is that your first or your last… Never mind. We expect you on the 13th of August.’  
They shook hands.

‘So what are we supposed to do now?’ Aziraphale asked. It was the 26th of July.  
Crowley shrugged and said he was going to take a nap.  
They decided to share a room in an establishment called ‘The Three Broomsticks’ and settled in for a while of waiting. Aziraphale explored the neighbourhood and read up on magical volumes. Crowley slept most of the time and then tried to initiate a village-wide prank war. It ended the day it began, when the Fanged Frisbee Crowley had ‘borrowed’ chased him around a field for forty-five minutes. It only stopped when Aziraphale offered it a chicken leg.  
They returned the frisbee to the shop and Crowley went back to bed.

\------

Like most of these things go, the 13th of August came both slow and quick. Crowley woke up one morning to find Aziraphale packing their bags. He got out of bed and began to brew tea.

A memo had arrived from their respective departments the day before. Aziraphale’s memo in the form of a talking letter. Crowley’s memo in the form of a rather singed and frightened looking owl, who held out a shaking leg with a note attached to it before flying off in a hurry.  
The memos said the basic same thing.

 

_It’s a magic school so miracle as much as you like. Just get yourself a stick and wave it about. They love that sort of thing._

 

Aziraphale had gone outside and had found two sticks that seemed useable.

While Aziraphale packed their bags and the kettle began to steam, Crowley inspected his stick. He saw Aziraphale already had his in his clothing.  
‘Hey Aziraphale, is that a wand in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?’ He asked the Angel.  
The Angel looked up. ‘Yes, it is a wand!’ He said enthusiastically, taking it out of his pocket and waving it around. Nothing happened.  
‘…Good.’ Crowley said. He stared at his stick until it was black with a red stripe. Better.

They started the long walk up to the castle gates, Crowley making his and Aziraphale’s suitcases float behind them. When they arrived at the first entrance gate, he remembered he should be using a wand and quickly pulled it out to wave it at the suitcases. His own suitcase seemed to laugh at him.

‘You…’ Aziraphale panted. It was a _long_ walk. ‘You haven’t told me what job you’ve got.’  
‘Me?’ Crowley asked nonchalantly. ‘I’m the new Herbology teacher.’  
Aziraphale did an impression of a sheep seeing an eclipse for the first time.  
‘You’re going to be teaching? My dear, the children…’  
‘…Will learn about plants.’ Crowley said. ‘Plants do what I say.’ He added.  
Aziraphales expression remained somewhat frightened, as if the sheep thought the sunlight would never return.  
‘But these are _magical_ plants!’ He said, worriedly.  
‘Eh. Can’t be much worse than rhododendron.’ Crowley told him, sneakily pushing the pocket edition of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_  deeper into his coat pocket.  
Crowley _knew_ these plants were worse than rhododendron, and had been pretending to sleep for three days while memorising this book and some others. He couldn’t have it seem like he was actually excited for this job, now could he?

 

They were introduced to the staff, given a quick lunch of the biggest sandwiches Aziraphale had ever seen and then shown to their workplaces. We shall follow Aziraphale into the library, first... 

The books in the Hogwarts library were, in and of themselves, magical. Some of them didn't exist until you thought of them. Some of them only existed on Tuesdays. And none of them were in any ways in agreement on which order they should be in.  
The day Aziraphale had his job interview, the books were colour-coordinated. If he had started the next week, they would have been arranged by author.  
When Aziraphale walked into the library for the first time, they were arranged by how many times the word 'gastrovascular' was used. Which in this case meant that there were five books neatly on one shelf and the rest were piled up in a corner, moping.  
It took him three hours to convince them to rearrange themselves into a proper library. And even then the books containing the words ‘gastrovascular’ hissed their pages at him when he walked past.

Crowley’s introduction to the greenhouses had gone just as bad as Aziraphale’s first introduction to the library.  
He had seen a Mandrake in desperate need of a bigger pot, but when he had pulled it out, the little bugger had screamed so hard that all the windows of the greenhouse shattered. Then, a plant called the Venomous Tentacula had wrapped itself around Crowley’s neck. Crowley bit it and stuffed the Mandrake into a new pot. He smothered it with earth. Then he turned around and saw rows and rows of mandrakes, all in need of repotting.  
He sighed, put on his gloves**, and got to work, hissing the Tentacula into submission. 

The better part of the day was when they both found their respective offices and bedrooms. It seemed the castle knew exactly what the two liked.  
When Aziraphale stepped into his room, it was almost exactly like the room above his bookstore. Tartan bedspreads and all. The only difference was the large mirror he would later learn was called a Foe-glass. That, and the heat-lamp Crowley sometimes used in long winters was screwed into the ceiling above the bed. He decided not to mention this to Crowley.

Crowley sauntered into his office and found that it looked a lot like Aziraphale’s bookstore, only somewhat cleaner, better decorated and with more plants. He decided not to mention this to Aziraphale.

 

 

Before school began, they had one more thing to do. They were both summoned up to the Headmaster. They gave the passcode to the stone gargoyle (Nose-Biting Teacup) and it sprang aside. They took the winding stairs to the large office.  
An old hat sat on the table.  
‘Ah! Master Aziraphale! Professor Crowley! Good to see you.’ Armando Dippet told them, getting up and shaking each warmly by the hand. ‘Please sit down.’  
Aziraphale sat, Crowley preferred to stay standing, with one arm on the backrest of Aziraphale’s chair.  
‘I take it you know each other?’ The Headmaster asked.  
‘For a while, yes.’ Aziraphale said.  
‘Seems like centuries.’ Crowley said, musing.  
‘Seems like it.’  
‘Good, good.’ Said the headmaster, distracted by the large hat on the table. ‘And everything is to your liking?’  
They indicated that it was.  
‘Actually, there is something I’ve been meaning to ask. Neither of you went to Hogwarts…?’  
‘Uh.. Durmstrang.’ Crowley said, at the same time Aziraphale said: ‘Beauxbatons.’  
’Naturally, naturally, both top-notch schools, second only to Hogwarts of course…’  
Crowley gave him a ‘get to the point’ stare.  
‘Thing is, we’re short a couple of heads of houses. Now, Professor Slughorn has already volunteered to act as head of Slytherin house, but only if he must. So, this is most irregular, but I must ask you to be Sorted.’ Here, he indicated the worn hat on the table.

The hat opened a seam that looked scarily like a mouth.  
‘Just so you know, I’m not singing the song.’  
Aziraphale jumped in his chair. Crowley took a step backwards.  
‘Holy…’ he started to say, then thought better of it.  
‘Uh.’ Aziraphale said. ‘Sorted?’  
‘You put me on your head, and I’ll tell you which House you’re in.’  
‘House.’ Aziraphale said dumbly.  
‘Yeah. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Slytherin.’ If it had eyes, the hat would have rolled them.  
_’Fine._ But you’re not getting the whole song _.’_ it said.  
Then it recited:

_You could belong in Ravenclaw, where they have wit beyond measure***_  
_Cleverness, wisdom, creativity, that is what they treasure._  
_Or maybe in Hufflepuff, your friends are just and true_  
_Patience, loyal and hard work, Hufflepuffs through and through._  
_Perhaps in brave old Gryffindor is where your heart truly lies_  
_Daring, chivalry, pure nerve is what all Gryffindors prize_  
_Or ambitious Slytherin is the answer to it all_  
_Ambition, shrewdness and cunning at your beck and call._  
_So put me on, don’t hesitate, linger or overthink_  
_Leave the thinking up to me, your future is on the brink!_

Aziraphale clapped politely while Crowley stared at the hat and its frankly dreadful song.  
‘Need to work on those last two lines…’ the hat muttered.

  
The headmaster directed their attention to the Hogwarts crest, with its houses and animals all in one.  
Crowley saw the snake on the green background and smiled. He knew what house he would be into. He was more curious about Aziraphale.

  
The headmaster picked the hat up, and with a kind glance at Aziraphale, lowered it onto his head. Crowley could hear the hat murmur, no doubt seeing into his mind. He could spot a mind-reader from miles away.  
The Hat decided quite quickly.  
‘HUFFLEPUFF!’  
Aziraphale wondered when ever in his life he had ever done hard work, but the hat was already off his head and being passed to Crowley.

_’A demon and an angel walk into a school…’_ Crowley began before the hat could even start to mumble. The hat shot him an image of annoyance. Crowley laughed.  
_’The Serpent of Eden, eh? How’s that worked out for you?_ ’ the Hat retorted.  
_’Oh, sod off.’_  
_’Hmmm… yes… So you’d want to be Slytherin, ehhh?_ ’  
Crowley mentally indicated himself. Obviously.   
_’But there is no ambition… No leadership… no sense of self-preservation… Even for a demon…_ ’  
‘ _Yeah, yeah. Get on with it, would ya?_ ’  
‘ _But a great desire to protect your friend. 6.000 years of unfortunate situations… And some more in the foreseeable future. Bombs, flaming cars… Better be…_ ’  
_’Told you. Slyther-_ ’  
‘GRYFFINDOR!’  
‘WHAT THE FUCK?’  
' _Really_ my dear!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hard to make a miracle if you don’t know where it’s supposed to happen. 
> 
> **If you asked him, Crowley would have sworn they were regular dragonskin gloves. Thing is, Crowley never really believed in dragons. The gloves were made of snakeskin. I’m sure my readers get the point. 
> 
> ***Crowley decided not to comment on the Wit Beyond Measure joke.
> 
>  
> 
> Stay tuned next for the Start of Year and a LOT of trouble with kids!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Throw me a comment if you have any questions, suggestions or things you'd like to see!


End file.
